In a little we continued our voyage, after the Chukches had returned to their boats, evidently well pleased with the gifts they had received and the leaf tobacco I had dealt out in bundles,--along with the clay pipes, of which every one got as many as he could carry between his fingers,--with the finery and old clothes which my comrades and the crew strewed around them with generous hand. For we were all convinced that after some days we should come to waters where winter clothes would be altogether unnecessary, where our want of any article could easily be supplied at the nearest port, and where the means of exchange would not consist of goods, but of stamped pieces of metal and slips of paper. [Illustration: A CHUKCH IN SEAL-GUT GREAT COAT. After a photograph by L. Palander. ] On the 7th September, we steamed the whole day along the coast in pretty open ice. At night we lay to at a floe. The hempen tangles and the trawl-net were put out and yielded a very rich harvest. But in the morning we found ourselves again so surrounded by ice and fog, that, after several unsuccessful attempts to make an immediate advance, we were compelled to lie-to at a large piece of drift-ice near the shore. When the fog had lightened so much that the vessel could be seen from the land, we were again visited by a large number of natives, whom as before we entertained as best we could. They invited us by evident signs to land and visit their tents. As it was in any case impossible immediately to continue our voyage, I accepted the invitation, ordered a boat to be put out, and landed along with most of my comrades.